


What To Swim For

by old_shizuumi151 (shizuumi151)



Series: Attempts at Angst [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst??, M/M, not super shippy but not the important part, not terribly sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shizuumi151/pseuds/old_shizuumi151
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes time for the swearing to dissipate in the fissures of his distress, but Rin doesn't want their last talk before the relay to be like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What To Swim For

When Haru opens the door, he expects Makoto with downturned eyes and radiating worry.

He tenses when the air rushes in with Rin, staring with a weak, desperate gaze.

“Haru—”

He doesn’t have time for this. 

But Rin’s foot jams the door before Haru can close it completely, and with a small gasp Haru realises he can feel Rin pressing his weight on the door.

“...Haru. Let me in,” Rin’s murmuring now, and an ugly shame twists Haru’s insides. “Please, I—We need to talk. We can’t...we can’t end it like that. Our talk in the locker room like that,” Rin lets out a shivering breath, and Haru dryly wonders if he’s going to cry again before he can repress the thought. “Let me in. Please.”

Rin leans harder against the door, and Haru’s fist shudders on the knob with a restrained impatience, a growing indignation. But it wears him away, and his heart can’t handle how it beats through his cold sweat any longer. So Haru slackens his hold, and the door glides open. The corridor air rushes in with Rin’s meek steps, and courtesy invites Haru to address his guest, even though this plush hotel room isn’t his.

But Haru doesn’t look at Rin when he heads to the bed, to hang his head as his body collapses to sit on the mattress, so what little energy he has left ripples away through the pliant cotton. He doesn’t look at Rin when Rin audibly swallows, then drags a stool over a palpable metre away from his knees. And he doesn’t look when Rin finally sits, and delivers his insistent red stare, one that demands a response that Haru doesn’t want to give. Not this time. Not now.

In the pause injected with thick nervousness, of nauseating apprehension that has already come to pass, Haru recalls. The things he said to Rin—yelled in his, Haru now realises, shocked face—are still true. The words came pouring, loud, acidic, burning with a truth he had spilled for the first time. Crowd-pleasing, time-setting, record-breaking—it’s nothing he stands for. Nothing he swims for. 

He swims for himself and his friends. That much is true. That much hasn’t changed.

But he recalls the feelings powering those words, and his throats silently locks again. He recalls feeling a bitter, raw...sensation. His bile rose at the words ‘future’ and ‘dream’—and when it streams from Rin’s mouth, with that searching desperation, it overflows. Because what Rin searches for in him doesn’t exist, because even with his outburst, Haru doesn’t lie like that. 

Haru can never be like the boy whose father was lost at sea, and charted their future so precisely in the wide map of their life—who is in the throes of accomplishing it despite the choppy waves at sea. Haru is the aimless boy at shore with his feet buried deeply in the sand, watching his friend journey off where the sun lines the horizon with a brilliant glow—where it’s too big and bright to even think of treading there.

And even when they’re islands away, miles away on that lifelong voyage, Rin still beckons to him. Expecting him to come.

And when he’s stuck on land—without the tools, the means, the will—staring where he can barely hope to follow, that’s impossible.

But how could the boy with a dream, a destination—how could Rin ever understand that?

He can’t.

Then he’s seeing Rin’s face contorted, saying those things...

Even though his fists tremble at his thighs with a constant irritation—because Rin shouldn’t be here, Rin doesn’t have the right to try to fix what he wasn’t a part of, to butt his nose in yet again, because this isn’t grade school and this isn’t something that incessant _bothering_ will ever help—he tries to piece his words, carefully. Softly. He tries to keep some promise in his mental grasp, so it doesn’t slip away like his resolve for the impending, so Rin can leave him in peace sooner.

So he opens his mouth a sliver—

“I’m sorry.”

Haru starts, because the words didn’t come from his now closed lips. They were blurted by Rin, whose face is visible through his hair, whose eyes pierce the ground where his toes are curling.

“I’m sorry,” Rin says again, and the crack in his voice is stopped with another gulp. “I’m sorry I don’t understand. I don’t. I never thought I did, but...I can’t—I _can’t_ if—” Rin’s back is tight with an arch when he clenches the trousers at his thighs, his shoulders bunched as his voice starts to gather more volume than tremble. “I wanna help—I _want_ to understand. But how can I—how can I help if you don’t _say_ anything...?!” he asks, heavy with emotion, and Haru freezes up at Rin’s strained eyes locking onto his.

Haru turns his head away, from Rin’s voice, Rin’s expression, fluctuating between exhaustion and nerves.

“Why do _you_ need to help?”

He feels the flinch of the blow, how Rin’s tiny wince deafens the silence that mirrors the weight of a recording room. He feels it, and _relishes_ in it for the smallest of moments—and that’s when he knows he’s overdone his righteous anger.

“I—” Haru bites back a curse. “Sorry, I meant—”

“—Your friends, then,” Rin cuts in thickly, his throat needing a cough to properly clear it. “How could they help you, then.”

Haru knows, can hear that Rin’s breath is all shudders and verges of cracking, breaking, exploding. He knows and he feels like he kicked a wounded man already drowning, struggling to breathe.

“...You are my friend.”

Rin scoffs, mutters. “That could be contested.”

Haru inwardly reels at the bitterness in Rin’s murmur, and his impatience rises like a toxin, egging him to bite out ‘ _don’t be overdramatic_ ’. But he knows there’s a weight to his words now, and resolves himself with a deep inhale and closed eyes, and hopes the dimmed senses means he can concentrate on what to say rather than the building distress pumping through his body. 

“I meant it’s none of your business,” he clarifies quietly, and before Rin can interrupt he opens his eyes, and his voice manages to stay unwavering. “It’s mine to deal with. Not yours.” he insists, and his eyes lower when Rin visibly processes his words.

“...You’re right,” Rin speaks up, his fingers laced together below his knees. “You’re right, it’s not my business. Your future, your dream—that’s all yours. I already have mine.”

Haru didn’t think that being right would feel so painful.

“But that—” Rin clicks his tongue, and the habit isn’t amusing this time. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get _help_. It doesn’t mean that people aren’t allowed to help you, if they— _when_ they want to—”

“But it’s not _their_ s—it’s _mine_ to deal with—!” Haru breaks in, annoyance making his words rise before he stops himself. “...Alone.”

Haru thinks Rin took in his words somehow, through his wide eyes turning into a slow squint. Then it’s a hung head, a releasing sigh. 

“...There’s a time to act all cool, and independent,” Rin’s gaze whips up, low and sharp. “But that time isn’t now, you _fucking idiot_.”

A hot offence swells. “ _Oi—_ ”

“—You _broke down_ , Haru!” Rin bursts out, his rage, concern, disbelief—all churning in a violent storm to propel him to stand, to talk down at him. “You couldn’t even swim _one hundred fucking metres_ of _free_! You ruined every chance you could get with your _goddamn rage quit_ —chances that you could think about _later_ , at least even _after_ the race when we could _talk—_!!”

His rant comes to a jerky halt when Haru rises to his feet—his jaw clenching, the power shift realigning, ire fuelling his icy gaze to meet Rin’s hot, flickering.

“Are you just here to spout about my mistakes?”

There’s a momentary surprise, and it settles into a challenging quiet. “You know what? _Yeah_. _I am_ ,” His breaths come in a harsh stream, and his eyes are a stabbing red. “Because you should’ve _told_ someone—you don’t need to—to fuckin’ _shoulder_ everything _yourself_ —!”

“— _It’d be useless!_ ”

“ _Hah..._?”

The question resonates in the squint of his eyes, and it only cements that Rin doesn’t understand. Haru feels the exasperation piling, but he remains soft-spoken as much as he can.

“...It’s meaningless if I don’t want to do anything...if I can’t think of anything,” Haru tries to explain, his words modulated with a bare vulnerability. “Scouts can call me, people can tell me what I should do,  what I should be, but...that’s useless. That’s not—” he stops, and bites the half-truth at his lip. “...What I want.”

He stops again, but this time Rin’s clapped a hand around his fist, and his gaze shoots to where Rin grips. He brings up his fist with vigour, clasping it firmly as Haru blinks at his demanding stare.

“You wanna swim for yourself,” Rin’s voice is sharp, his expression set. “And for your friends, right?”

He feels Rin squeeze his hand, and he can only nod slowly. “...Yes.”

“Then fucking do that,” Rin’s voice carries in the air-conditioned silence. “If you let other people push you down, make you feel this way over what you want to do,” His grip is strong like his resolve, and Haru can’t tear away from Rin’s eyes. “Then you lose.”

“...I don’t know,” Haru starts, the truth slipping out in the quiet. “If I want to swim professionally.”

He feels Rin’s surprise, like the clutch on his fist between their chests is a conduit for Rin’s every reaction. It should be irritating, but he’s so drained that he doesn’t bother ripping out of Rin’s hold like before. It likely nails him to the moment anyway—so he doesn’t crawl under the covers and his mind doesn’t slink into sleep until the relay—so he remains waiting for Rin, who’s lazily studying the edge between the carpet and the balcony while thinking of a response.

“...Fine,” Rin sighs eventually. “You can go for some coaching job, a lifeguard, or whatever. Going pro isn’t the only way to keep swimming. But know this,” his gaze moves up, up so it charges Haru’s tired eyes with renewing energy. “You can _definitely_ go pro. You can blow anyone out of the water, even me...if that’s what you choose.”

Haru can tell the room for doubt was an add-on, but the sentiment makes his eyes grow anyway.

“—It’s fine if you don’t,” Rin continues. “it’s your future. But I know you could do it...”

“Rin...”

Rin’s grasp grows warmer, and his head tucks to exude apology. “...I know we could do it.”

Apology for his selfishness.

Haru has never envisaged it before—he was never able imagine a crystalline future like he’s sure Rin can. But his mind assaults him—instead of a cool hotel room waiting for regionals, they’re in the Olympic Village waiting for the grand stage. Rin’s clasping his hand like this, promising whatever they get, whatever they receive, it’ll all be worth it. It’ll be worth all the hours, days, months, years they’ve swum together, and he’ll be smiling, maybe verging on tears, but pretending they don’t bead the corners of his crinkled eyes when he shines with the promise of their relay.

The vivid barrage steals Haru’s balance, but Rin refuses to let him collapse.

“ _H-Hey_ , don’t faint on me...!” Rin squawks all of a sudden, but Haru is nowhere near such a state.

“I’m fine...” he covers his eyes for a moment, the light sweat of his palm over the flutter of his eyelids. “...Dizzy.”

Haru’s swallow consumes his own ears, amplified by the darkness of his closed eyes, as the blood thumps with a more merciful force in his body. He dimly hears Rin murmuring ‘ _Christ_ ’, and Haru’s heart squeezes at how he really does overreact. And when he recovers from the momentary loss, his hand falls to reveal Rin studying him with full intent, his reassurance at Haru’s fist still not lost, but slipping.

“I know what you swim for...but if you don’t want to go pro...” Rin whispers, visibly going over his words. “...I don’t know if we’ll be able to swim together again.”

Haru freezes at the words, at the truth, and Rin senses it. His heads pulls up at Haru’s reaction, and the red of his eyes leak some desperation in how they search.

“Do you—” Rin inhales. “Do you still want to swim with me?”

“Yes.”

The response comes without hesitation, and the speed of it takes the both of them aback.

Rin’s the first to break out of the stupor, a relief stretching across his lips. Haru can’t stand how his gut twists at the reaction, and he feels the need to follow up.

“I swim for my friends,” Haru reminds, remembering to remove the emotion that his affirmation contained. “So of course I want to keep swimming with you.”

Rin blinks, and his eyes dim with some disappointment. “Well...” his free hand reaches for his nape. “I meant it a little differently...”

Haru can’t help but frown at that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m aiming for the Olympics. You know that,” Rin huffs at how his words naturally bite without him meaning to. “Swimming with me is different than swimming with your friends—it’s a lot more invested, to put it lightly,” he tries for a chuckle, but it softens quickly. “...But I guess that’s if you even want to swim professionally, right?”

Not for the first time, Haru feels at a loss. He feels his fist slip out of Rin’s slackened hand, which gently goes into his pocket, and there’s a flicker of demand building in himself. A foreign strength teases his insides, and he feels the hints of a realisation that he needs.

 _Wait_.

“Well, I didn’t want our talk to end at the locker room like that...that’s why I came here,” Rin looks up to Haru, and grins like they’re about to race at that moment. “Can’t solve your problems in a night, but we got a relay tomorrow, yeah?”

_Stop._

“I oughta head back now—regroup with the team and all—”

_Don’t—_

“We’ll be side-by-side tomorrow—make sure you tell Makoto and the others about how you feel—” 

Haru reaches for him. At least, he thinks he does.

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” Rin’s at the door, hiding his expression as he throws up a small wave. “We can talk some more after the relay, if you need to.”

When Haru blinks back into the room’s warm lighting, the door clicks. Rin’s going back to his own team, and the revelation he thought he sensed fades like Rin’s warmth at his fist. His fist that loosens, and falls to his side when his body meets the bed again, and he tries to call the anticipation of the relay tomorrow to no avail.

 _Don’t leave yet_.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, what I'd like to imagine the aftermath of the locker room talk to be like 8') Since their relay's in the next episode/tomorrow for them, and they're seen beside each other at the blocks. I hope they patched up what's happened in some way or form before the relay (or, alternatively, Rin will have been too occupied with how weird Sousuke's being aHHAHAHAAAA _helpusall_ )


End file.
